


Henry and the No Good Very Bad Day

by Seiya234



Series: Transcendence AU [22]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/pseuds/Seiya234
Summary: because there weren't enough au-au's of TAU:the one where Henry becomes a demon in lieu of Dipper





	1. Chapter 1

Consider the Transcendence in 2012

Henry would be 13 (technically a teen!) to Mabel and Dipper’s 12. How did he end up in Gravity Falls here and now? 

Perhaps a kind woman with no name gave him a ride to his uncle’s house, perhaps his uncle had custody of him, or perhaps his branch of the Corduroy clan had never left in the first place.

How did it happen, how does it end? All good questions. But perhaps a better one is to consider-

—————-

March 2026

(if the author was so inclined, this Transcendence would happen on the day of the triplet’s birth, for that extra bit of pathos. But let’s give Mabel a break; it’s hard being pregnant) 

Henry had always believed Mabel and Dipper and Stan when they told him about that first summer the twins had come to Gravity Falls. It was hard not to, between the presence of Dr. Pines (he could never bring himself to call the man Ford, like he called Stan ‘Stan’), the scars on Mabel and Dipper, and of course, all the many Other beings that called Gravity Falls home. 

He was aware of the possibility that Bill could return, that the binding of the Wheel could come undone. 

(-not that anyone ever brought the idea up in conversation; but Henry could hardly blame them-)

He just never thought it would actually _happen._

Henry managed to stagger to his feet. The shockwave from the gun that Dr. Pines had created knocked everyone down, except for Stan who had had the quick wits to engage the brakes in his wheelchair.

Bill was still there. That was… discouraging.

Slightly more encouraging was the ichor dripping from his eye, the bricks slowly crumbling and falling to the ground. Didn’t Dr. Pines say earlier that the gun could fire two or three shots?

“WELL WELL WELL. YOU CRAZY KIDS SURE DID A NUMBER ON THIS BODY.”

Next to him, Henry could see Dipper tense up, saw Mabel clutch her bat tighter in her hands. 

“SO I THINK IT’S ONLY FAIR THAT I BORROW ONE OF _Y̹̝̳ O̸̺̪͉̦̝͚ͅ U̢̩̥̗̗̣ R̨̘̪͕̱ S̱͖̪.”_

All of the blood drained from Dipper’s face as Bill’s hands joined together.

“EENIE-” a point at Dr. Pines

“MEENIE-” a point at Candy even as Dr. Pines scrambled to prime the gun one more time, caring no longer about subtlety. 

“MINIE-” a point at Manly Dan.

“YOU.” 

Dipper stood frozen as Bill went greyscale, his corporeal form dropping like a stone to the ground. 

Ten minutes, ten years, ten centuries afterwards, Henry could never quite say what had propelled his feet to move, moved him to throw his body in front of Dipper’s own.

All he remembered was seeing Gravity Falls burning around him one moment and then the next-

—

“_THIS_ IS UNEXPECTED.”

Henry looked around. They were in a forest… but it wasn’t the forest that grew in and around Gravity Falls. No, here the trees were taller, broader, their canopies impossibly large and the air primeval.

“DON’T BE SO SURPRISED ANTLERS, THIS IS _YOUR _MINDSC-”

Bill paused, and then spewed from his eye black bile. And though Henry was divorced from his body here, he knew without knowing how that back in the real world, whoever was next to him-

(_DipperGrendaFordMABEL)_

-would see the veins in his arms, in his neck run that same pitch black.

Bill coughed once, and the ichor managed to stop, though even as he straightened up, a brick fell out of his middle.

“I CAN WORK WITH THIS! I’M JUST GOING TO NEED YOU TO D̯́Ị̼E͎̜̞̪͜ͅ-”

Pain flared through Henry’s being, unimaginable and all-encompassing. For a heartstopping moment, Henry was so very sure that this was it, that his body was going to be hijacked to kill the ones he loved-

Something small, quiet inside him woke up and simply said-

“No.”

—

-the next he was waking up in Mabel’s arms, his face and front wet from the snot and tears she was dripping on him.

His entire body ached… no. That wasn’t quite it. More like it felt like every nerve was on fire, like an size XL stuffed into a size XS meat suit, like-

(meat suit?)

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking do that again!” Mabel screeched, and then pounded him in the chest with one first for good measure. “I’m the only one who gets to do dumb things in this relationship.”

Henry huffed out a small laugh. “Not for the next eight months,” he gently pointed out.

Mabel paused.

“Oh yeah. Poop.”

“Mabel. Mabel sweetie.”

They both turned towards the sound of Stan’s voice as he slowly wheeled himself over to him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Mabel laughed. “Henry!”

Stan’s face froze. It looked like he (and Ford, and Dipper) had bitten into something rotten.

“Mabel….” Stan started, and then stopped. He looked over to Dipper, who knelt down next to them, tears streaming down his face.  
  
“Mabel; Henry isn’t _there.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Two people walk into the hospital.

(there is something to be said about being induced and not having to live out fifty ‘woman in labor’ cliches is one of them).

The woman has her hair done in a million tiny braids and is wearing a sweater emblazoned with a massive explosion and the words “READY TO POP!”. She’s not walking so much as she is waddling with purpose, and looks, for lack of a better term, like a big grape stuck through a toothpick. Her face is painted- literally- in red glitter paint.

(“It’s my battle face!”)

The man next to her is somehow even more noticeable. A few months ago, that wouldn’t have been the case; usually it was the laugh beat of ‘tall guy short girl’ before looking back at Mabel.

Even now there was no real reason to stare at the man, not when the woman next to him had started letting out Xena yells. Yes he was rather tall, and crowned with an impressive mass of curly red hair. But he is dressed rather plain in comparison to his wife- black jeans, a long black collared shirt, with black boots and belt. Nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for people to conspicuously get as far out of the way from the couple as humanly possible, and yet-

(a weight on the air, like a great and terrible storm is rolling in, and eyes in a blue that is not usually human standard, and above all, the force of will that keeps everything in check…)

They check in, Stan and Dipper following behind them carrying bags of fast food- even though both Mabel and Henry had explained that this was only going to be three or four hours as opposed to nine or twelve.

Dipper has brought his Switcheroo, his laptop, and four books. Stan has a pack of cards.

Henry looks at Mabel, who shrugs. Three hours _is_ a long time after all.

(it’s not, really)

—-

While Mabel is changing out of her clothes and into scrubs, one of the nurses comes up to Henry.

“Sir, are you sure you want to be in here?”

Henry thinly smiled. “Yes, my wife wants me here. And I want to be here.”

The nurse matched him insincere smile for smile.

“Mmm, yes, a lot of men think they can handle it, and then they just pass out on the floor, stone cold!”

“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that I will be fine.”

Smile fading, the nurse pressed on. “If you pass out or puke, we won’t have time to deal with that you know- your wife is having triplets and-”

“_I said I would be fine.”_

The blood drained from the nurse’s face, and she almost scrambled backwards out of the room.

Thirty seconds later, a pair of scrubs were in Henry’s hands.

—-

He holds her while the needle goes in for the epidural, kissing her fingers one by one-

(tiny pricks of blood one by one on each finger, buying true painlessness, a speedy recovery, anything _anything _for her)

-and as they explain to her how to use the button, waves of her pain wash through him.

True to his word, he doesn’t faint. He wouldn’t have any way, but even in these last few months, he’s already seen far worse than any of the doctors in the room could even begin to imagine.

Though he really isn’t seeing much, because it’s more important to be on her side of the curtain.

“Can you see my organs?”

Henry peaked over.

“Yes.”

“Can you take some pictures?”

“….no.”

—

He’s not sure which one of them is hand squeezing harder; Mabel, or him. He was so focused on Mabel’s experience, he didn’t even think about how it would affect _him_-

(well, okay, he knew he would be affected _emotionally_, that was the point of the fifteen books that Dipper had bought for them as soon as they told him)

They were his children, and even as he held his screaming daughter, cut his son’s cord, placed both of them on Mabel’s chest, he already loved them more than life itself.

But they were flesh of his flesh, derived from his bone and blood, even if said bone and blood had since transcended. They were the children of a demon and they were tangible beings and Henry felt _real_ in a way that for most of his life until this year he had taken entirely for granted.

And then he noticed that the doctors hadn’t said anything about their last daughter.

—

One minute Dipper was playing Underview on his Switcheroo and trying desperately not to check his watch for the nineteenth time, the next-

Pine needles under his feet, the thick canopies of the trees blocking his view of the sky, glowing eyes in the dark depths of animals you really hoped were deer… oh god.

There could only be one reason Henry would bring him to the Mindscape now.

“What would you do, for your sister?”

Dipper spun around. A man in black peeled away from a pine tree and began to walk towards him, pine needles crunching under bare feet.

“What would you _give-”_

The man stopped, shook his head as if to clear his mind.

Dipper, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, took a step forward.

“Henry.”

“I’m sorry.” Another head shake. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s just, she’s not moving. She’s not breathing, she’s-”

“Mabel?”

“_Willow_.”

The being in front of him turned his full attention on Dipper. His legs gave way and Dipper fell face first on the ground. He had enough time to feel the crunch of his nose, the blood rushing out onto the pine needles and dirt, before being completely overwhelmed by

<strike>-a kitten in a sack sinking to the bottom of a lake, and large arms restraining him from going in after her-</strike>

<strike>-being lifted by Uncle Dan to get one last look at Mother Corduroy in her coffin and sobbing even though it would mean a beating later, because one of the only people who actually liked him was gone-</strike>

<strike>-the doctor lifting his daughter away from _him_ his daughter isn’t </strike>_<strike>breathin</strike>g_ his daughter needs _help needs breath needs li-_

Heart stuttering dangerously in his chest, Dipper managed to look up.

“Henry.”

Another wave of anguish and despair hit him, sending his head back in the ground. Dipper raised it again, along with his voice.

“HENRY!”

A breath. A heartbeat. 

“What do you need from me?”

A heavy hand on his shoulder, the touch icy cold even through Dipper’s shirt, yet gentle as it lifted him up to his feet. Dipper was relieved when he looked at the being’s face, it was once again Henry.

“A year of your life.”

Dipper stuck his hand out with no hesitation. 

“Deal.” 

—

“Wow.” 

Finally, it was just them alone. In a few minutes, they would let Stan and Dipper in the room, but as much as Mabel loved her twin and uncle, she wanted this time alone. Her and her husband and-

“We made that,” she said, muzzily waving her hand at the babies currently asleep in three turbo-cribs in the room.

(there was an official name for them but they were ridiculously big and on wheels and made beep noises so gosh darn it, they were turbo cribs!)

Henry smiled at her. “So we did.”

“I mean, I’m going to be honest with you, I think I should get like, 90% credit for this.”

“I think that’s fair.”

From the first crib, Acacia began to snuffle, and Mabel felt her boobs get heavy-_and that was weird what the what. _

_“_Henry, can you bring her over?”

Henry took a step, then froze.

“Henry?”

He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes full of anguish. 

(she missed the hazel.)

“What… what if-”

Her heart hurt. Not for the first time, she wish she could have had the pleasure of facing Bill on that day. 

“You won’t know until you try,” Mabel gently pointed out. Still Henry stayed frozen in place, as Acacia’s snuffles started to transition into hiccups. 

Time for the big guns.

“We made that.” Before Henry could say anything, she went on. “You can touch me, and we’re not like, actually blood related.”

“You’re my _wife.”_

_“_Yeah, and those are your kids, and more importantly, I still can’t feel my legs, so try at least once before you give up and I chuck the buzzer at you.”

Mabel didn’t have her camera on her, but for once she didn’t need it.

She would remember the image of Henry’s shaking hands hovering over their daughter, then gently lifting her up-_touching_ her- for the rest of her life. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ian sat watching the girls at the playground and marveled at the increasingly creative insults they hurled at each other and the kids around them.

A good father would probably try and stop them, or at least turn a blind ear, but he had another script due for Mizar on Friday, and there was of course the new thing still percolating in the back of his head, so he was instead shamelessly taking mental notes of the best lines to steal. 

“Mind if I sit here?”

Ian looked up- and up and up because the speaker was comically tall. He was a redheaded man dressed all in black, and aside from lankiness looked normal and there was no reason for every hair to be standing up on his body and a tiny part of him locked deep in the recesses of his mind to start screaming incoherently.

“Sure.” 

Well no one ever said he was smart. (Smart? Yes. Smart? No.)

They watched the kids play for a few minutes in peaceable silence. Lydia, probably a little too old for this playground, had instead settled on looking for bugs under the rocks. Violet was doing her absolute best to not merely swing on the monkey bars but to somehow get on top of them and walk across. And Joy was talking to a group of older kids in a way that Ian knew would end up with them doing something absolutely ridiculous for Joy, and him having to have another talk about manipulating the emotions of others for one’s personal gain.

(ie, there was a time and place for that, but the playground was probably not it)

“They look happy,” the other man finally said. 

“I think they are. I hope they are anyway.”

The redheaded man nodded. “Trust me. They are. You’re doing a wonderful job.”

Sirens were going off in Ian’s head and now both the Bill part of his brain (because alone in his head he could admit it, that tiny bit was the Bill part and even if it wasn’t he thought of it that way) and his regular brain were screaming to pay attention, to do something-

But he didn’t because there was something very soothing about the other man’s presence. Ian didn’t think he was exuding a feeling of calming on purpose; the man was just a restful person to be around. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot my manners.” The man extended a hand. “Henry Corduroy, nice to meet you.”

Ian took it. There were no flames or eldritch energies or flashes of things Man Was Not Meant To Know, just warm skin and rough calluses. “Ian Beale.”

They sat back. Something in Ian made him ask, “What brings you to this area?”

(to this dimension)

“An old friend gave me the idea. I will not lie to you, the idea of traveling was foolhardy to me at first, even dangerous. But I’m finding a little vacation every once in a while hurts nothing.” 

Just as Ian started to relax- see silly instincts, it was nothing at all! look, the Sight says he’s a normal vanilla human! calm down!- Henry went on.

“Besides, I heard you had some trouble at your wedding.”

Ian froze. His heart stuttered in his chest. Yet his mouth managed, “Pretty weird words from someone I’ve never met before.”

Henry smiled. It was a sad smile. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this whole…. this whole pretending thing.”

Ian did not ask who Henry really was, or how he knew what had happened several years ago, because there was a tiny tiny part of him screaming in his head that resonated with the other man, knew him to the bone because they came from the same source.

(if nothing else, Ian couldn’t forgive Henry for making him start to think in weird and not that great poetic language. And parenthesis.)

What Ian said instead was, “If you were so inclined to help, we could have used that a little earlier instead of now.”

“Yes well-” 

Violet slipped as she finally managed to throw herself over the top of the bars. Both men tensed for a minute, watching to make sure she wasn’t actually going to fall. At the last minute, she managed to regain her balance and drag herself on top of the play set. Ian let out a breath and Henry’s shoulders unclenched.

“Across is hard enough and risky as it is, without adding backwards to it.”

“Alcor wouldn’t say that.”

“Yes, well we both love Alcor-” (wait what) “-but Alcor can be dangerously overconfident and braggadocios at times.” 

Ian looked around, and Henry must have realized who he was looking for because he went on. “He’ll probably show up, but not for another few minutes.”

“So why me? Why not Alcor or Mira or anyone else?” Ian wasn’t sure why he threw up Mira’s name, just that as soon as he did it felt right just like he didn’t have to ask who Henry was here to talk to about their wedding.

Henry clasped his hands together and looked up at the sky for a minute. 

“You know, I couldn’t quite say myself. Maybe that in speaking to one of my selves I thought I should seek out another one-”

“I’m… I’m not that.”

“Don’t worry, I know.” Henry reached out and, horror of horrors, laid a hand on top of Ian’s. 

(even more horrifying, Ian didn’t mind having the hand there, though he acknowledged it was both as weird as it was comforting)

“I guess just, seeing you happy was nice to see. That you’ve turned out well.”

(part of Ian snarled at that. It wasn’t the Bill part)

“Hey girls!”

Ian and Henry looked up as Mira, brandishing an overloaded picnic basket, came up over the hill.

“Mommy!” Violet leapt off the bars in a way that made a grey hair pop up on Ian’s head, Lydia let the worms she was gathering into a worm ball dissipate, and Joy had two of the older kids carry her in a literal arm chair as they all went running towards Mira. 

Ian turned from looking at Mira to see Henry and froze.

That wasn’t the man he had spent the last ten minutes chatting with. 

That was a statue, was ice, was the entropic cold at the end of the universe. To look at the figure next to Ian was to hear the rattle of the old man in the hospice bed, was the burial of your first pet in the backyard, was a pregnant woman screaming as her husband died-

(that last one was…. oddly specific)

-and then it was Henry again, a sad smile on his face.

“She’s beautiful.”

Ian, despite feeling like a goose not only walked on his grave but stomped all over it and left one of those weird big goose poops on it, smiled back.

“Yeah, she is.”

Henry leaned over, and gave Ian a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Be well, Ian Beale. Thank you for letting me steal a moment of your time.”

Ian wanted to respond with something funny, or biting, or quick witted, but remembering the look on Henry’s face, all he could say was, “You’re welcome.”

Henry got up, and began to walk into the copse of trees in the distance.

“Hey!”

Henry looked back.

“What’s your name? Your real name?”

Henry smiled.

“Henry Pines.”

Then he vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

The man on the porch was whittling; he wasn’t entirely sure what this was going to be yet, but he was getting a duck call feeling from the wood. It would be a good gift for Lily since she had gotten into bird watching recently and-

There was a disturbance in the air.

There was a disturbance in the air, and the man gently laid down wood and knife in time to see another man appear out of the mists, walking determinedly until he came to a standstill in front of the porch.

They stared at each other for a long moment, then the man on the porch finally said, “There are rules against visits like these.”

The other man, dressed in a bespoke suit, shrugged. “To people like….like us, the rules don’t matter.”

The man on the porch-let’s call him the Old Man, for brevity’s sake, though he is wearing the face he was born with- nodded. “Perhaps.” The Old Man examined the man in the suit for a second longer, then sighed. 

“Well, you’re here now. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Any loose souls?-“ At the look on the Old Man’s face, the man in the suit-call him Alcor call him the Dreambender but perhaps in this context call him the Young One- held up his hands. “Kidding. I’ll take a Sprite.”

There was a minute or two of rustling as things got settled-the porch swing lengthening to accommodate two, a Sprite appearing from the ether, the delicate dance of one demon encroaching upon another’s territory- before the two finally settled. The Old Man turned back to his whittling, while the Young One looked awkwardly around.

(henry knew dipper; it would take only ninety seconds for him to get awkward and sweaty and-)

“This isn’t the Shack,” the Young One said indignantly.

“It’s not,” the Old Man agreed.

“What… what happened to the Shack?” the Young Man asked, with a quiver in his voice. The Old Man for a second thought uncharitably about what on earth the Young Man expected; wasn’t the whole point of this, frankly very dangerous, exercise to see how the other demon lived?

(but this was dipper and that hurt, that loneliness in his voice was something that henry himself felt every day so)

“It’s still in Soos’s family. I think they run it as some combination general store and supernatural research library now.”

The Young Man took a slurp of his Sprite, and the Old Man tried not to wince at the noise. “So what’s this place supposed to be then?”

The Old Man felt a smile creep on his face, even after all this time. 

“It’s the Hut.”

(perhaps if they got their bearings straight, henry would take dipper inside, show him on a tour. start with the stan-o-war ii, dry docked on land after stan’s accident, and how it formed the heart of the hut. the modern kitchen he insisted on and the less modern woodstove that was mabel’s desire. mismatched wood colors through the house from all the leftovers uncle dan got from the mill and the floor mosaics that mabel herself inlaid over the course of several years. the triplets’ rooms, rooms he had grown himself, from one nursery to three separate rooms, powers he still didn’t understand flowing out of him, willing wood to grow and shape to cover and protect the ones he loved and-)

The Young Man winced. “The…. Hut.”

The Old Man’s blood chilled, and he saw the Young Man shiver. “Yes, the Hut. It was your sister’s idea.”

Mentioning Her quickly quieted the other demon, just like the Old Man intended, and if his stomach felt queasy from playing such a dirty trick, well.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, and just when the Old Man was about to politely ask his guest to leave, the Young Man said, “You… you know, the Shack has legs now.”

“Like Baba Yaga’s hut in fairy tales?”

The Young Man grinned. “Yup. Tried to tell them once that that was a little on the nose, but then the Shack got mad at me and hid from me for several months after that.” 

“Huh.” 

(the hut had never gained that kind of life, he had brought it entirely into the mindscape after willow’s great-granddaughter had died, and all her cousins were already settled and he had felt his family spreading ever farther, growing ever larger, and it was wonderful and beautiful but he needed his ground, his earth, their home…the hut was his. it would always remain his.)

The Young Man finished his soda, and made to eat his can when-

“Is that Gompers?”

“Yup.”

“Like, actually Gompers? Flesh and blood Gompers and not like, one of your Nightmares?”

The Old Man nodded. “Not sure how he gets in here.”

The Young Man snorted. “Gompers does what Gompers wants.” Then he waved his hand, and was immediately discomfited when one did not appear at his hand.

“You have to ask,” the Old Man chided slightly, before creating another Sprite for his fellow demon.

They drank their drinks.

They watched Gompers eat the Sprite can, stare off into an unknown dimension, and blip away from the lawn.

They took another drink.

“So what actually brings you here?” the Old Man finally asked. “And please, no malarkey about doing it because you could, or something like that-”

“-that is part of it-”

“-but not all of it.” The Old Man sat back in his rocker, and waited.

(he could outwait dipper. he had always been able to outwait dipper.)

The Young Man rolled his second Sprite can between his hands.

“You know there’s universes? Where Mabel got turned instead of us? Or Stan?”

The Old Man nodded. “Of course there are. Just like there are ones where Pacifica got turned, or Soos, or Waddles or…. well. That’s the point of the multiverse isn’t it? Infinite possibilities. Such as-” He waved a hand to indicate the both of them sitting there. 

The other demon snorted. “Truth.” Then he became solemn again.

“I met a demon Mabel once. Forgot about her for awhile but then I ran into a gift she had left me and it got me thinking.”

There was an appreciative silence for a second as Gompers blipped back into the Old Man’s Mindscape with a six pack of beer for the Old Man, before the other one went on. 

“She had changed so much…and I… I don’t feel like I have. I’m old, Henry, so fucking old. And yet I feel like I haven’t learned anything.”

The Young Man stopped but the other demon could fill in the blanks. 

“You worry that you’re still thirteen, deep down inside.”

The Young Man gave him such a dirty look (so like acacia) that for a second the Old Man almost laughed but then he caught himself. Then the Young Man sighed.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s about it.” 

The Old Man sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy to say or hear.

“I’m afraid… You’re right. You always will be. There will forever be a part of you who died when you were thirteen. Your power will forever grow because part of you is frozen in that part of life where all you were doing was growing. A part of you will always be petulant, temperamental, stuck on your sister and your loved ones at thirteen-”

The Young One, who had been increasingly gritting his teeth, finally interrupted. 

“And the poìn̶t of ̷t̡hi̢s i͜s̵??”

“You didn’t let me finish. Look, think about Gompers-”

“Oh cool, now you’re comparing me to the goat, fucking fantastic.” 

The Old Man took a deep breath. This was a Young One in front of him after all. 

“Gompers is still the same. He never seems to age, he still enjoys hanging out in my yard… but he’s different as well. He’s learned new things-”

“-like the beer trick-”

“-and by extension teleportation. In my dimension at least there’s a whole scholarly literature dedicated to him by now. They call him ‘The Wandering Goat,’ and there’s a whole society dedicated to spotting him in the wild.”

The Old Man unclenched his shoulders, leaned back into his chair. 

“So yes, a part of you is forever thirteen. But there’s also so much more to you than that, that is constantly changing and growing. And that’s a wonderful thing. Focus on that instead.” 

The Young One was quiet for a long minute. The Old Man took another sip of his beer, satisfied, glad he could reach out to his fellow demon

(his brother his brother his brother)

and help in some way.

“Wonderful?”

Maybe not.

“W͝o̜̰n͈̳ḍ̣̻e̴̜̺̤r̗̜͔̪̼̬͍f̙͍̩̮̺͝ù̘̭͍ḷ͙͎̜͇̱̮?̤͉̼̟̜̳”

“Dipper-”

“How the f̸̶̧̧͜u̶̧c̷̷͟͠k̶̛ is this supposed to be ẃon̡d͢e͡r̶̶͠f͟u̶͡l̡?”

Okay. The Old Man could have worded that better. 

“Okay, maybe not wonderful but-”

The Young One threw his soda out into the yard, and Gompers, after shooting him a dirty look, wandered over to go eat the can. 

“So there’s no hope for me?”

“I didn’t say that-”

“I just have to, have to, have to accept this?!”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth.” 

The Young One whirled on the Old Man.

“And don’t tell me how to feel!”

“I wasn’t.”

“I came here because I thought you would understand-”

“You came here because you wanted a concrete answer and now you’re upset that you didn’t get one.”

The Young One got up. Darkness and golden lines flooded his being, eyes began to open up where eyes did not belong, and from his back unfurled two terrible wings of ebon night.

“Y͠ou̢ da͟r̶e-”

In response, the Old Man grabbed the Young One by the scruff of his neck, and tossed him off of his porch. 

The Young One went ass over teakettle, rolling in a few somersaults before coming to a halt in front of the totem pole. He quickly stood up, snarling, not even bothering to dust himself off. 

Before the Young One could speak, the Old Man said calmly, “I am sorry what I. said upset you, but that doesn’t excuse rude behavior. If you want to prove to me you are your actual age, please act like it.” 

The Young One looked at him for a second, ichor spilling from his eyes and mouth, before saying, “You’re not him.”

“No. I am a version of him but I am not your Henry, no.”

“Good. Then-” the Young One lifted a hand, claws lengthening- “I don’t h͘ave t̵o̸ ͞fe̸e͞l͢ ̧ba͢d ab͏o͢ut̨ ̷t͝his͞.”

“Are… are you serious? Is this really the course of action you’re choosing to ta-”

In response The Young One turned around and toppled over an apple tree and that was enough.

The Young One watched as the Old Man stood up. A second ago he was wearing an old Oregon State sweatshirt, and oil stained jeans with work boots. Now however…

Now he was all in black, from the pressed slacks, to his long coat, even his button up shirt….the only two things that stood out were the stark white of his preacher’s collar peaking out from his chest and his feet, now pale and bare. 

There were no wings, no oddly colored sclera, not even the expected antlers- nothing to outwardly suggest that the Old Man was anything but a normal man.

But that was because he didn’t need it. 

The Old Man took one step off the porch. His bare foot touched the ground and the Young Man instantly fell over onto his face.

Another step and the Young One felt his heart (his heart?!) stutter in his chest and he knew had he been mortal, it would have simply stopped beating, severing soul from body. The Young One pushed himself up and

Another step sent his arms out from under him and back face down in the dirt, while some invisible force

(it wasn’t raw power it was the dread you heard when the front door opened and you could smell alcohol and you knew Dad was going to come in your room any second with an excuse ready to go and you just wanted to sleep but there! the door cracked-)

pressed down on him. 

Another step and the Young One felt the power begin to drain from him, flowing from his veins into the thirsty earth below him, feeding the grass and the trees, the worms and the nightmares, wrapping tendrils around the bones of all those who died before in the great circle of life.

Yet another step, and the Young One felt… he felt…

(lowering henry’s casket into the ground with the kids, lowering mabel’s casket into the ground with the kids, then willow’s then hank’s then it was acacia and he was alone he was all alone he was all alone he was all alone h̶e ̀w̛a̷s ̸a҉l͘l a͡l͏o͞ne͘ ͘HE̛ ̨WA͜S͏ AL̵L͘ ĄL̨ON͢E ͡-)

He felt tears pooling around his face. And a cold hand on his shoulder.

The Young One looked up, and saw into the face of Death. 

(the man in black, he who walks behind, the kindly one, judgement, sedna, the demon with no real name because he didn’t need one, he was elemental he was relentless, he was unceasing, he was cold and he was death-)

Then the hand was grabbing his own hand, was pulling him up and it was just 

(henry)

the Old Man again, gently brushing the Young One off.

“I am sorry for losing my temper with you. I know better than that,” the Old Man said as he led the Young Man back to the porch. 

An olive branch. “Well, I did provoke you,” the Young One responded.

“I probably could have worded my advice better,” the Old Man said, handing the other demon a Sprite. 

“And I could have taken my head out of my ass for a minute and actually listened to you.” The Young One proffered his can towards the Old Man. “Truce?”

The Old Man smiled. “Truce.”

They stood in awkward silence for a second before the Old Man asked, “Would you like to come inside? You can’t stay here for very long, we know that but… I could perhaps maybe make some time.”

The Young One smiled.

“I would love that.”


End file.
